THOUGH JUST A DAY PAST ITS SELL-BY, IT DOES SMELL A BIT IFFY.

HALK*

AFB fans will know me as a man extremely open to the confectionery produce of the local ‘continental’ superstore. Openness is not akin to delusion, though, and does not extend to Halk, aka the Wagon Wheel of Doom.

I would now like to do a drawn-out comparison of Halk to a bulky Brazilian footballer of a similar name, Givanildo Vieira de Souza, aka ‘Hulk’:

Halk is far less than the sum of its parts (biscuit, marshmallow, coconut, chocolate). Hulk is far less than the sum of his parts (big, strong, Brazilian, good moniker).

Halk always disappoint. Hulk always disappoints.

Halk is small and insubstantial. Hulk is big and insubstantial.

You would put on weight by eating Halk in bulk. Most of Hulk’s weight is in his arse-bulk.

As my always pithy football pundit friend Michael recently remarked, Hulk probably exists to shift pyjamas to younger Seleção fans. Halk has no such positive purpose in the world. Dry as a bird skeleton in the Kalahari, flavourless to the point where your imagination takes off as if acid-tripping and then comes down still with no breakthroughs, and easily the biggest culinary disaster ever achieved with desiccated coconut – and there’s been a few.

As we have found many a time in our journeys in Average Food, all we have found here is existential questions, profound doubts about the efficacy of the free market in weeding out totally fucking pointless consumables, and opportunities for football references taken far beyond the point of decency.

HALK: 0/10

*Halk is not one biscuit, but an entire biscuit and confectionary firm. But for the purposes of inaccuracy, this blog assumes one biscuit as a representative of the firm.